


Bunnies

by Obsessed Romantic (2SFlovers)



Category: The OC
Genre: Gen, Pancakes the bunny, and her offspring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2SFlovers/pseuds/Obsessed%20Romantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to those adorable balls of newborn fluff when Summer went on her roadtrip? Here's some thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pancakes

\--xxx—

It wasn’t raining the day of The Great Parting. 

It should have been raining.

It should always rain when a mother bids her children goodbye forever. 

I’d done my best to teach them the lessons my mother (Fluffball) had taught me, handed down from her mother, and hers; all the way back to Cotton, the first of our clan to befriend a two-legger. Her words of wisdom had remained unchanged and unchallenged throughout the years; guiding rabbits of our family line in their interactions with the strange, furless creatures know as humans. 

Humans are lonely things, that was the main point of all learning. They had a need to surround themselves with affection, and they weren’t too picky about where they got it. Like any other animal, they preferred the company of their own kind but, when they couldn’t get that; they turned to what they called ‘pets’ and what my family referred to as ‘companions’. 

A slightly less humiliating title. 

They found companions in the oddest places, too. Humans took fish and birds (which they also ate, strangely enough) into their homes, going to great lengths to make the area livable, to make their new ‘friends’ comfortable. It was rumored that some humans adopted snakes and other reptiles as their companions, but I’d never credited such gossip. It was strange enough that they accepted cats and even (I shudder to think it) dogs without making up wild stories about humans who had vermin as ‘pets’. 

I hadn’t started out as a companion, oddly enough. I’d had the ill luck to become a ‘lab animal’; a fate which I was devoutly hoping none of my children were headed for. Not only was such a place in the human’s world risky, at best; but it was also very lonely. I remembered well the small cages, the bars separating me from friends, the cold rooms, the bland food, the impersonal touching……….. 

I hadn’t even had a name, then; just a sequence of nonsense sounds, occasionally interspersed with the title ‘rabbit’ or the demeaning ‘bunny’. 

Until she came along, freeing me and all the others; naming me ‘Pancakes’ before she even lifted me gently from my prison. 

She was so kind, often letting me roam about the spacious grounds (on real grass) of her home and feeding me such a variety of food I thought (for those first few weeks) that I was dreaming. Summer (an appropriate name for one so generous and warm) even allowed me to wander the soft fuzz of her bedroom, and carried me around to view strange and exotic places like ‘the mall’, ‘the club’, and ‘Seth’s room’. 

Seth, I later learned, is her mate. Or was her mate, the relationship is a confusing one. 

In any case, I knew that, with her over-seeing the fates of my little ones, I had nothing to be concerned over. She would not send them to dark, cold, and lonely places. She would see that they each received a worthy home. Had she not already seen two of my children well-placed, with friends dear to her heart? Was she not leaving me in the care of her own mate while she traveled about, striving to protect the Earth itself? 

No, there was no reason to be concerned for my offspring. There wasn’t even reason to be nervous about my own fate. Seth may be confusing, and his chatter incomprehensible; but his heart was good, his touch always gentle and kind; and, most important: he always made sure there was at least one serving of carrots in my bowl every day. 

My Summer could do a lot worse for a mate. I hoped she would return to us before her bearing days were over. That way, I could make the acquaintance of her children, as she had mine. 

Ah, my dear ones.

Quite a surprise for my human companions, they were. I like to think that it was finding my little brood under her nest that broke my friend and her mate free of their lethargy. The squirrel-like one (Taylor, I believe she is called) had pointed out that it was selfish of Summer to keep all of us to herself; such companionship as rabbits offered should be shared with as many as possible. A wise creature, but her frantic nature made me glad that the child Flapjacks was given to the quiet male, Ryan. There would be very little noise in store with that one, nothing like life with the squirrel-female would have been. 

Another child, Waffles, was going to a younger female, the one whose nature and name was like that of a feline: Kaitlyn. 

I knew that Summer would never have gifted a child of mine to anyone whose inner nature was cat-like, but I still worried for the safety of my young one. Cats were not to be trusted, they’d as soon eat you as not; so I was a tad concerned to see Waffles put into the care of one so feline in aspect. A mother’s prerogative, I suppose. Despite my knowing that they would be perfectly safe, treasured by their new companions; I still wondered what would happen to my precious babies, wondered if they would be happy and safe 

Wondered what fates awaited my dear, dear children……..


	2. Panther

\--xxx---

From the minute Fuzzbutt walked in, I knew it was story time again. 

His fellow cat plopped down, looking at me with ears back, peering at me as if he expected me to become a cat by the virtue of his disbelief. The cats glared at each other, and the new one said, in a tone of deep offense: 

‘’Panther……..is a rabbit?’’ 

I suppose it was a little strange, a rabbit named Panther. My human friend, Maggie, had a strange sense of humor, sometimes. At least, that’s what Fuzzbutt’s friend, Doris, always said. 

‘’Maggie-pie, ‘’ she’d say, amidst laughter ‘’….you have the strangest sense of humor.’’ 

Maggie had been the first human (not counting friends of Summer) to adopt a child of Pancakes. She’d selected me (and my name) because I was something humans referred to as ‘grey’. A personal joke, she said, something to do with her age. I didn’t get what was so funny about being ‘grey’, it must be a human thing. It had to be a human thing, because Fuzzbutt was also, supposedly, this ‘grey’, as well as being something the furless ones called ‘tabby’ and no one thought he was funny. I didn’t know, then, that a cat would end up being my best friend. All I knew, at the time, was that I was going to a new home, far away from my litter-mates. 

To say I was scared would be like saying carrots are delicious. 

My fears were eased, somewhat, by Maggie’s first stop. She went into a ‘pet store’, making me think for a minute I was about to be traded in for something bigger or better. An older rabbit, perhaps; or one of a different clan-type. Nonsense, of course; because it turned out all the woman wanted was a ‘good cage’ and information on how to properly care for my kind. She placed me on the counter (very high above ground, I was a little nervous) and set food samples before me so that she could be sure to purchase the kind I liked.

I think that’s when I fell in love with Maggie, that precise moment of personal choice and freedom she gave me. 

Wonderful woman. 

Things only got better when we reached her apartment complex (a human warren) and she prepared a litter-box for me, informing me (just as if she knew I could understand) that the cage would be for sleeping, and I was free to wander around as I pleased. The food I’d chosen and sufficient water were out of the path of her feet in the kitchen, and Maggie and I soon settled into a nice rhythm of friendship. Her fingers were firm but gentle on my fur, and she never subjected me to the indignity (save when bringing me home) of picking me up. Life was good. 

Until I met the cat. 

Fuzzbutt and I didn’t exactly get along, first time we met. He’d been used to getting the attention from both his friend (Doris) as well as mine and I suppose he resented my position as a challenge to his place in the spotlight. That, and my name was more suiting for a cat than his was, and vice versa. Trading wasn’t an option (how would we convince the humans?) so he simmered resentfully from his place on the back of the couch and I cowered under Maggie’s nest whenever he came over. 

Then the day arrived when Doris took ill. 

Something transitory, but still requiring a hospital stay. Maggie graciously offered to care for Fuzzbutt, a gesture I would have supported more enthusiastically if she hadn’t also been away so often (sometimes overnight) visiting her friend. I understood that my companion didn’t want to leave her fellow human to the mercy of the coated ones, but after three nights alone with the cat; I was no longer in such an expansive mood. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was, to leave me alone with that creature? There were other dangers, too; dangers that revealed themselves that fourth, fateful night. 

The first I knew of anything going on was when there was a crashing tinkle of delicate objects. I hopped to the edge of Maggie’s nest, thinking (incorrectly) that the cat had knocked something over during his nighttime prowling. Fuzzbutt’s eyes glowed from the back of the couch, meeting mine before narrowing towards the windows. 

Dark shapes, huge shadows of two male humans, lumbered their way through the window and into my human’s home. I didn’t need the cat’s hissing to know this was wrong. The two men started gathering things into sacks; things I knew Maggie hadn’t given them permission to have. They laughed when the cat howled at them, laughter that turned to pained hisses when the brave fool launched himself at them, claws extended. 

One of the strange humans cursed and threw Fuzzbutt against the wall, where he lay very still. 

If they could do that to a cat, what would they do to a helpless rabbit? 

Another sound of something breaking made me shudder with fear and, oddly enough, anger. Maggie had very few things, aside from her friends, and these bad men were taking from her. Taking from Doris as well, if the cat was truly hurt. This was bad, so bad; but what could a rabbit do? My teeth weren’t sharp, my claws too trimmed to be useful. Besides, look at what had happened when Fuzzbutt tried to use his (far sharper) claws. 

A dim memory of lessons under the Summer-human’s nest fought it’s way to the front of my terrified mind and, the next thing I knew, I was screaming. 

If you have never heard a rabbit scream, you won’t be able to appreciate the startled fear that suddenly overtook the two intruders. They became obsessed with finding out where the ‘creepifying’ noise was coming from (one of them stuttering his insistence that I was a ghost), ignoring the quietly opening door behind them until it was too late to avoid the wrath of Maggie’s baseball bat and crowbar-wielding neighbors. They were damn lucky the police had been called when my screaming was first heard, or the other humans would’ve done them serious damage. 

Carrots were shoved under Maggie’s nest until I stopped my noise. I emerged to find Fuzzbutt in the lap of another of my human’s friends, one named Harriet. He would be fine, I was told; and the humans proceeded to spoil the both of us rotten. I was treated to so many versions of carrots (soft, warm, crunchy, shredded, raw, sliced, etc) that I honestly started to get a little sick of them. 

The most surprising part of the whole thing was that Fuzzbutt decided I’d saved his life (one of the intruders had been about to kick him) and declared me to be an ‘honorary cat’. One of his favorite things to do was introduce me to other companions in the building (except the dogs, they were too stupid to understand) and regale them with the tale of my ‘heroism’.

I hopped over to the food bowl, pleased to find the crunchy grass-tasting pellets that were my favorite, hearing the cat’s familiar words behind me. 

‘’Yes, he’s a rabbit; but that’s not important. Panther saved my life. See, what happened was this…….….’’


	3. Dusty

\--xxx—

‘’Kingdom: Animalia; Phylum: Chordata; Class: Mammalia; Order: Lagomorpha; and Family: Leporidae. Most commonly referred to as a rabbit or bunny.’’ I looked over the new class of students as Natalie presented my credentials, twitching my nose at the nervous ones in the front row. ‘’This one’s name is Dusty.’’ 

There were giggles. There were always giggles when my human introduced me. Apparently, I was ‘dusty’ in appearance; being ‘brindled’ with ‘grey’ over ‘white’. Humans certainly had a great many words to describe color, especially the colors assigned to what little fur they had. 

Natalie, for instance, was ‘brunette’, like Mother’s friend Summer. Her mate, Scott, had been described as having fur the same ‘color’; although he wore a portion of his on his face. There were ‘blonde’ humans, like the quiet Ryan that my sibling Flapjacks had found a home with, and ‘auburn’ humans: the squirrel-like Taylor being one of these. There were humans with ‘red’ fur (incessantly grooming Julie) and some with ‘white’ or ‘grey’ fur (obnoxiously loud Bullitt) and some with ‘black’ fur (endlessly chattering Seth). Being furless, they even had descriptions for their naked flesh. 

Tan, pale, dark; Latino, African, white. They relied so strongly on this ‘sight’ to identify each other, I believe, because their senses of smell and hearing were so weak. 

Having introduced me to her class, Natalie opened my cage and lifted me out; affording the children the opportunity to make my acquaintance on a more personal level. I sniffed their little hands, twitching my ears at the gentle ones and baring teeth at the predators-to-be. I was an old hand at this by now. 

When I was first brought to the attention of my human’s students, I was very nervous. I had been the last of my litter-mates to find a home, and I was terrified that if I didn’t make a good impression; I would end up at a ‘pet store’, or worse. That didn’t mean I was particularly eager to allow all these strange young humans to touch me, though. I’d spent a long time cowering in my cage, afraid to move. 

It was a timid child named Emily who coaxed me forward. She came every day, during lunch, to read in the solitude of Natalie’s classroom; often sharing tidbits of her meal with me. Ignoring her would have been the height of rudeness, so I allowed her kindness to encourage me to leave the shelter of my cage. We became good friends; she even visited my human’s home during the pause in schooling called ‘vacation’. It was a wrench when she ‘graduated’ to a higher level of learning, but I soon found other friends among the children who came my way. 

Tender Angel, who spoke so well and so long about things that caught her attention. Clever Lily, who knew the odd names humans had assigned my kind before Natalie’s introduction. Lesley, who protected the smaller, weaker children from their fellows and Donna, who was so friendly and welcoming to everyone that my human became very depressed when the girl followed Em to ‘the next grade’. 

These children had taught me how to draw the others out, to inspire their interest in the things Natalie was trying to convey. Over the years, I perfected my behavior to let my companion know which ones were damaged (their fear and bruised flesh a sharp tang in my nose), which ones were mean (predator-scent making me quiver), and which ones could benefit most from her guidance. I preformed ‘tricks’ only for the shy ones, refusing to follow commands when they were conveyed by the ones whose aggressive manner was obvious; at least to me. By the time ‘vacation’ rolled around again, I was more than ready for the break. 

Being the teacher’s pet was hard work.


	4. Trix

\--xxx—

 

My name is Trix. A human ‘joke’, because I was this thing called ‘white’; something I supposedly had in common with Mother Pancakes. When I first reached my new home, I thought I also had her bad luck; because I was sure I’d ended up as a ‘lab animal’. The room was sterile and cold, with multiple cages containing other rabbits as well as cats and small dogs and tiny creatures I later learned were guinea pigs and hamsters. My fellow furred ones were quick to reassure me that I wouldn’t be experimented upon, though they wouldn’t say what my purpose was to being here. 

Samples of my fur and blood were taken, and I was set in a separate cage (something called ‘quarantine’) for many days before being placed in the larger enclosure with the other rabbits. They made me welcome, and I finally learned something of why I was there. 

There were children living here, I was told; children who were far from their homes and lonelier than human children usually were. We were to give comfort and affection to these children, for as long as they were with us. 

I didn’t understand, not even after I met the children in question. 

That they were ill was obvious. They were all in beds or chairs, with blankets tucked around them; some even with masks and gloves. They made their choices from among us, some so ill all they could do was watch the antics of the tiny hamsters as they ran through mazes and worked the wheel in their cage. Dogs laid their heads soulfully on the laps of the strongest, cats purred with whatever healing power that brought; and we rabbits soothed little hands on our soft, soft fur. 

The third week in, I realized that some of the children were missing. I asked after them, and was told that they’d passed to the great beyond. 

At first, I was very upset. 

How could these humans put us through this? Didn’t they realize how traumatic it was for us to bond with these precious little ones, only to have them snatched away? How cruel was it give these poor dears our affection, knowing that it wouldn’t help in the slightest? 

That, I realized suddenly, was entirely the point. 

With other humans, the children had to be ‘brave’, to be ‘strong’, to pretend that they weren’t terrified. Perhaps the love of their parents had faltered, seeing their offspring in such pain and being unable to do anything. Some of those we met were in such a situation as that; their families drifting away to spare themselves the grief of the child’s passing. So the nurses and caregivers had brought us in to fill the void in the lives of these innocents; to give the unconditional, unending love only we ‘lowly beasts’ were capable of. 

If a sloppy dog-kiss made the great dark easier to face, then Chief the Chihuahua was to be commended. If the incessant purring of a cat soothed the terror of an uncertain future, then Morris’ serenade was no longer irritating. And if the soft fur of a ‘bunny’ hid their tears, then I would bear the salt (and the degrading name) with pride and honor. These little ones needed love as well as human medicine, and that couldn’t be the job of anyone involved in their care. Other furless had to think of the scientific, heartless details, of the things that could (possibly) make them better. If they tried to give love as well, they would destroy themselves in the agony of their grief when a child passed beyond their skills and closed their gentle eyes for the last time. 

So whatever love (dog, cat, hamster) could be given was a welcome, blessed gift. 

Even the love of a silly rabbit.


	5. Muffin

\--xxx—

Here it is: the origin story of Muffin the Rabbit. 

Unlike the story of my companion, whom you may know from the hit series ‘The Valley’; this isn’t a tale that will be on ‘The Insider’ any time soon. Humans just aren’t that fascinated by the history of those they take into their homes. They want to believe that their relationship with us is pure, untouched by love or affection for another. They want to believe that we ‘pets’ adore them and only them, forever and ever. 

Okay, so it’s usually true. 

I do love my Rebecca-human. 

From the moment we met, I knew she was something special..………

\--flashback—

‘’What a bunch of cute little bunnies.’’ The strange female may have made that observation about all of us, but it was me she chose to stroke, me she lifted out of the box and cradled to her chest. ‘’The fur is so soft……’’

‘’Oh My God.’’ That was the Summer-human, mother’s companion. She sounded upset, so I peered upwards to try and detect what about this person was making her nervous. The female holding me had a large object covering most of her head, and another over her face. ‘’You’re Rebecca Branson! I don’t believe this! What are you doing in Newport?’’ 

‘’Shhhhh.’’ Rebecca shushed the other female, but didn’t stop with her stroking. A woman with priorities, then. ‘’I’m here to scout some locations for the show, and……Wait a minute…..’’ The object in front of her eyes was lowered, and she leaned forward; thankfully bracing me as she did so, so I wouldn’t fall. ‘’Don’t I know you?’’ 

‘’I was at your ex’s birthday bash, three years ago?’’ Mother’s human seemed embarrassed, for some reason. Was it because she had been celebrating the day of a male not her mate? ‘’You busted me watching dailies in his car?’’

‘’Oh, right.’’ Rebecca shrugged, a motion carefully executed so that my position wasn’t disturbed. Her fingers on my fur were kind and gentle, but they also seemed a little sad, all of a sudden. Silence reigned for a while, then she spoke again. ‘’Are you selling these bunnies?’’ 

‘’No, I’m giving them away.’’ Summer sounded hesitant, and I saw my opportunity slipping away. How often would I encounter a human who stroked so well? Honestly, this was the best attention I’d received in my whole life. ‘’To good homes, where no one will try and dye them or anything like that.’’ 

‘’Dye them?’’ The nice female sounded properly horrified, cuddling me once again to her chest. She didn’t smell as chemically nasty as some of those who’d stopped by, and I snuggled her, touching my nose to her skin and making her giggle. ‘’But he’s such a cutie; his fur is already such a lovely, soft shade of ginger, who’d want to change that?’’ Mother’s human didn’t answer, she just made the lip-stretch; the one Pancakes said meant she was pleased. 

Oh, of course; she must’ve been testing the Rebecca-woman. Clever. I wish Mother Pancakes was here to see how well her human was protecting us, how careful she was in choosing companions for us. I knew Mother had been worried, a little; it would’ve been nice to be able to ease her fears.

‘’Do you want him? He really seems to like you.’’ I certainly did. Her fingers had never stopped their gentle motion, and she’d put her arm around me when Summer had voiced the frightening word ‘dye’. I also got the feeling that she needed me, needed the undemanding affection only a rabbit could provide. 

‘’Could I?’’ I was lifted for a closer examination, her eyes huge in my sight over the object obscuring her face. ‘’Does he have a name?’’ 

‘’Nope. His mother’s name is Pancakes, though; if that helps.’’ 

‘’Oh, I don’t like pancakes.’’ She didn’t? Wait, maybe she meant something else. Mother had always said her name was taken from something else in human culture, though she wouldn’t tell us what. ‘’I like muffins, though.’’ I put my front paws on the edge of her hands, twitching my nose towards hers. She laughed, a merry and tinkling sound; crinkling her nose at me in turn. ‘’Muffin it is, then.’’ 

\-- end flashback—

So I came to live in the huge warren Rebecca called home. 

After a few days in a cage, I was deposited in a wide swath of real grass. This was odd, because I could tell we were still indoors. Sunlight streamed down from a window in the roof, a sanded area was designated my new ‘litter-box’, and stone as high as my head bordered the sloping paradise I’d been gifted with. It was a lovely place to wander, when Rebecca was gone. When she came home, I was as attentive and wiling to listen as any human could wish. She enjoyed my company so much, she began to take me with her when she left our wonderful home. 

I’d heard stories from Pancakes about the mobile cage Summer had carried her in, about the sack Seth had subjected her to. Nothing could be further from my companion’s choice for my traveling comfort, however. It was firm but soft, supporting me without bruising. It even had small attachments for food and water and, thankfully, wiped easily clean when I ‘had accidents’. She carried it over her shoulder, often dropping her hand to stroke my fur, caress my ears. I saw several dogs traveling in like conveyances; but none of those morons were as pampered as me. Their humans dressed them (what animal needed clothes?) in ridiculous looking outfits, mangled their fur into ‘style’, and one even walked off and left her ‘pet’, obviously forgetting the thing existed. Something my Rebecca gave her a sever lecture about. 

My companion knew I didn’t like the dogs, so she was always careful not to sit me too close to their slobbering idiocy. 

Dogs. 

Ew. 

Life was pretty good for me, even when she started introducing me to her male friends as an aid to her mate-hunting. From Mother Pancakes, I knew it wasn’t good for humans to be alone as often as my Rebecca was; so I was enthusiastically careful in my examination of the males I was exposed to. It wasn’t hard to make my opinion known. A sneeze here, a hop frantically away there; I only had to deposit waste on one particularly vile example of the breed. His reaction to my doing so caused me to visit the frightening ‘vet’ place; but it also resulted in my companion never going near him again. 

Good. 

She could do much better than that foul-smelling predator, anyway. 

I wasn’t worried that her mate-hunting wouldn’t turn out well, although she had expressed some concern about the lack of positive results so far. She didn’t know what I knew, see. 

Humans said that rabbit’s feet were lucky, but I thought it was more accurate that certain rabbits were lucky in and of themselves. Mother disagreed but what, after all, had brought her to the attention of Summer if not luck? How had she survived the great shaking if not by luck? How had she managed to breed and bear us (all alone, unsupported by her human) if not luck? Only luck chanced to bring me to Rebecca’s attention, and only luck would bring her perfect mate into our hunting territory. 

Good thing for her I, like my mother, was a lucky rabbit.


	6. Waffles

\--xxx—

Kaitlyn was a strange human. 

She didn’t herd, like other humans did. She didn’t even mate-hunt, like I’d heard human females her age were prone to. All she did was read ‘books’, stare at ‘television’, go out to ‘class’, and talk to me. She used to light this really bad-smelling grass and stick it in her mouth; but after the third time I had a coughing fit, she stopped doing it. 

Well, she stopped doing it in my presence, anyway. I still picked up the occasional whiff of the stuff, some nights. That and the fouled-water smell that she called ‘beer’ were not among my favorite of her habits. My least favorite, however, was when her sibling came over. I hadn’t been driven to bite or claw the little monster (yet), but he really needed to learn that ‘Awfuls’ was not my name, and I was not to be gripped like the unfortunate cloth thing mangled in one of his paws. My name was Waffles, and I wasn’t about to let his sticky, smelly mitts anywhere near my fur. 

I felt guilty about not liking her family, but they truly preyed upon my patience. I didn’t know how Pancakes had stood it, when we all lived together. I suppose it wasn’t the same then as it was now; but I still wished Mother was around to be consulted, instead of somewhere vastly distant like ‘the east coast’. If she was here, she could tell me how to handle the Bullitt human and his annoying habit of yelling (my ears curled every time I laid eyes on him, bracing myself for the inevitable ‘Bang!’) and his even more annoying (and deeply, disturbingly, disgusting) habit of making ‘jokes’ about how good I would taste as a meal.

Kaitlyn’s dam was easier to handle. Yes, there was a mild chemical scent constantly about her (something to do with nails or hair, usually); but she was always gentle with her stroking, what little stroking she did. Frank (a rare visitor) seemed to be terrified to even touch me and if it wasn’t for the control he exerted over the small demon-child my companion called brother; I would’ve been happy never to see his twitchy, nervous face again. 

Honestly, his anxiety when around me and my human was worse than…… well, worse than a rabbit’s. 

Ryan was the most welcome of her guests, and not just because he invariably brought my sibling Flapjacks with him. He was the only one of the group that Kaitlyn called family that treated her like herself, and not a miniature version of someone called ‘Marissa’. I’d never met this person, but if I did, I would have some words for them. From the things my human friend had said during our ‘talks’, this ‘Marissa’ had made her feel insignificant, unloved. Everyone, it seemed, had wanted Marissa, and no one had wanted Kaitlyn. Even now, some of them wanted Kaitlyn to be Marissa, and that was just wrong, even a rabbit knew that.  
The problem was that, even though she had a large family (if you counted everyone from Julie on down to Seth), but very few friends. I mean, there were the ones who smelled like the stinky grass or fouled-water; but she only had them over when she was feeling bad and wanted to play with that stuff again. Not very often, thankfully. My sneezing and coughing (and sympathetic ear – don’t say it) had cut down on that pastime considerably. More prevalent were her ‘book’ friends, the ones who came over and read with her; talking long into the night about things I really wasn’t paying attention to. And probably wouldn’t understand, even if I had. Her ‘book’ friends were always disdainful of me, though; so that left them out of consideration. Which meant I had to find another group to hunt in. 

See, I had figured out what my purpose was. 

Mother had said that every rabbit is given a purpose with their human; even if it’s just to listen, just to be a silent, comforting presence. Kaitlyn already had that, though. She had family and friends for just about everything a human could want. In fact, the only thing she was missing was a mate. 

Which was where I came in. 

I had a plan, too. I’d begun by making a fuss (hopping back and forth in front of my cage door) until she started letting me wander around the room instead of keeping me confined. Recently, she’d moved the cage to the floor, leaving the door open so I could go in and out at my leisure. Soon enough, the door to the room would be open; and I could make my way into other dens of this small human warren called a ‘dorm’. 

After that, it would be a simple matter of finding an appropriate human male of approximate age and becoming ‘lost’ in his vicinity. Since I was the only rabbit around (not counting the poor souls in the lab) it would be easy for him to return me to my rightful home. Kaitlyn would be so happy to have me back, she’d befriend the male and, eventually, they’d end up mating. 

It was a good plan. It worked for dogs, after all. Granted, it had taken 100 Dalmatians to do it, and I only had one rabbit (me); but since rabbits were so much smarter than dogs, I figured it couldn’t fail.

What could possibly go wrong?


	7. Flapjacks

\--xxx—

They were at it again. 

I sighed, turning around in my cage to face the wall and wishing I was deaf. 

My living with Ryan was the envy of most of my siblings. He was a quiet, strong protector-type who was (per Mother) considerate and conscientious in his care of his friends. That I was the runt of our litter only emphasized my good fortune. I’d been chosen by Summer because she said the ‘black’ around my eyes reminded her of how my new companion spent much of his youth. I didn’t get it (nor did any of my family) but it amused the humans and that was a good thing. Those first few months in his small den were wonderful; despite the nervous-making babbling of his den-mate. Bullitt wasn’t serous with his joking remarks about cooking me (or Waffles); but I didn’t have the same confidence in the hot eyes and moist lips of the male my human lived with. When the other moved out, leaving my companion with the den all to himself; I’d been ecstatic, if frightened by the solitude. I wished for our life to become, somehow, less boring. 

If I only knew then what I knew now……….

His silence was starting to get to me. Odd for a rabbit to want noise around; but Pancakes had taught us that complete and total quiet in a human was a sign of illness. The ‘blonde’ male didn’t speak all that much, often going days without opening his mouth (in my presence, at least).. In fact, if he wasn’t interacting with his family, or talking to his litter-mate Seth over the phone; I never heard his voice at all. Not to say he ignored me. I was fed, my cage was clean, and he found time to stroke me in a satisfying manner every day. He even let me out of the cage for ‘exercise’ every now and again, never forgetting to be careful where he put his feet when he did so. Sometimes, he took me traveling to see Waffles, or to wander the grass around his dam and sire’s den while he visited with his sibling, Sophie. 

Then she came to live with us. 

It didn’t start out that way. She only came to visit, in the beginning. In the beginning, I couldn’t figure out what the sounds were, because Ryan always draped a blanket over my cage when she was ‘sleeping over’. I didn’t mind the visits, despite the decline in the amount of attention I got; because my human was always more talkative and cheerful afterwards. She was good for him, I decided; making him act more like I’d been told humans should and less like a walking tree. Taylor even encouraged him to take me to public gardens and parks and brought interesting new food for me to try. It wasn’t until they left the blanket up, one night, that I figured out what was going on. 

I suppose some would think I was a stupid rabbit for not knowing, right away, that they were mates. To be fair, I’d only heard the sounds Seth and Summer made when mating (above my head in their nest, back in the old den) and they were different from the sounds my human and his female made. Besides, my family had repeatedly described her as ‘squirrel-like’; and my experience with him was that he wasn’t the frantic type. I just didn’t expect them to want to mate. They were so different, as different as (pardon my coarse language) cats and dogs. When we moved to the new, only slightly larger den, their mating happened more and more often. I began to be concerned for the health of my human, believing that the female was somehow in a constant state of heat. Only the caring, clothed behavior she exhibited (making sure he ate, causing him to laugh, soothing his negative moods) made me finally accept her presence. 

It was just fortunate that they weren’t compatible, breeding-wise; or the new den would’ve been over-run by little Ryans and mini-Taylors in no time. 

The sounds from behind me faded and I sighed, hoping that this would be one of their short nights. I hoped in vain, because there was a giggle from her, following by predator-sounds from him; and they started making the moans and sighs that always heralded their mating. Looks like another long night, I thought, wishing I had the ability to roll my eyes. It was like they couldn’t control themselves, not that I saw any evidence that they even tried. Those two mated so often it was beginning to interfere with my ability to eat and sleep; a dire situation for a rabbit. 

Honestly, the way they went at it, night and day; you’d think they were rabbits themselves. 

\--xxx—

\- the end -


End file.
